retiredmartin

 

Oddly, perhaps, Matt was quite keen to see the white cliffs of Dover before his gig.  I’d had the best view from the train whizzing back from Folkestone.

“It’s a bit daggy” he said of the town when we caught up at the Maison Dieu.

And I guess he’s right.

“Look at the cuddly toys randomly arranged in that tree” I exclaimed, to complete disinterest.

“Where’s your pub then ?” said Mrs RM, equally disinterested by an array of unprepossessing public houses and increasingly desperate Chinese takeaways (five in half a mile).

The Breakwater Tap is the first new entry in Dover for about 37 years that isn’t strictly a micropub, and not just because of the brewing kit.

Oh, look !  Proper seating.

I thought it was quite a pleasant place to drink, with a good buzz aided by “Fox on the run” and “Since you been gone” booming away.  (I’m not joking).

But you’ll see the problem immediately.

Ten customers, ten beers on tap, about a hundred bottles and as many gins around the walls etc etc. Most folk seemed to be on the Strongbow.

Result, a very thin homebrew, an over carbonated keg.

And this was the brewer that had produced a very decent Stout an hour ago in Folkestone.

And my son was getting increasingly triggered (as da kidz say) as he read through a bound volume of rules of the sort last seen in Herne.  (“If ye shalt answereth your fone ye shall be banneth etc).” How much he has to learn about life.  And micro pubs.

After a walk up to the castle and back we’d suddenly burned off the salted caramel brownie. Not fancying pre-moshpit curry, we had tea at Dover’s Wetherspoons  (and a decent pint of something from Loch Lomond).  It was manic.

And it wasn’t much less manic in the morning, with the Sunday morning 9am crowd enjoying their pre-ferry pints.

Not the best advert for Dover’s charms, but if you want to see how to run a micro this is still the place to come.